


Primary Caregiver

by Million_Moments



Series: Harry verse [10]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Million_Moments/pseuds/Million_Moments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Richard is separated from his wife for a week, he realises for the first time just how much she does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Separation

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first multi-chapter Harry verse fic. It is set within one week of “Fur Ball” (reasons will become apparent as to why) and thus before the events of “The Story”. Just to keep you on your toes!

 

They weren’t arguing, not yet, but they were certainly teetering on the edge of one. Richard really didn’t want to fight, this was not an appropriate time for it at all. Camille’s Aunt, Catherine’s sister, had died and left an estate that needed sorting out with, sadly, no closer relative than Catherine able to do so. Richard had found himself unhappy at the thought of Catherine flying out to France alone, trying to arrange the funeral and pack up her sister’s belongings. He wanted Camille to go with her Mother for support, but also because he knew Camille had been really quite fond of her Aunt and would want the chance to say goodbye properly. It has surprised him when, having suggested it, she immediately rejected the idea.

Camille was vague about the reasons why she didn’t want to go, and he found himself pressing the issue, until eventually she admitted, “I have never left you alone with the children overnight before, let alone for a whole week Richard!”

He’d been surprised how much that hurt. “What, so you think I can’t be trusted with them?”

“No! No of course not!” She seemed exasperated with him, but what sort of conclusion did she expect him to draw from that statement? “Richard the longest I’ve ever been left alone with them, well actually just Harry it was before we had Alex, was two days. I am sure we would both find being alone with _two_ children for the week you are proposing…challenging.”

He crossed his arms, still felt like he had something to prove. “I do realise that, I’m not expecting some sort of walk in the park! I would take the week off work. I think I can manage, no, I know I can manage!”

Camille stopped chopping vegetables and turned to him, “Please, please don’t think I am questioning your abilities as a father. But a week is a long time. My Mother doesn’t expect me to come with her because of the children, and she knows all four of us could not afford to fly out with her, so there is no need to consider it really.”

He didn’t move from his position, didn’t reply to her, and she looked increasingly frustrated. “I am not going to go just because your feelings are hurt Richard. I’ve told you it isn’t about your abilities as a father and you should trust me when I say that!”

He moved suddenly towards the table and picked up his phone. This was clearly not a move that Camille was expecting. “What are you doing?” She asked.

“I am calling your Mother. She might not expect you to come, but I am going to find out if she actually _wants_ you to go with her.” Before she could object, he had dialled the number and walked out of the room to have the conversation.

Catherine was surprised by the proposal, “Well, Richard, of course I would want Camille to come with me but you and the children all can’t afford to fly out.”

“Well we wouldn’t,” he explained. “I thought I could take the week off work and look after them here.”

There was a pause during which Richard resigned himself to Catherine pointing out he might not be able to cope. To his surprise, she did no such thing, and instead saying, “Richard you and Camille have never been separated for more than 2 days since you first started your relationship.” Richard had never really thought about it before, but now he did he was surprised to realise that she was right. It seemed that Catherine _didn’t_ think he was incapable – but she did think he and Camille were inseparable.

“Of course I’ll miss her,” he admitted, feeling awkward about having to do so to his Mother-in-law. “But I know you need her more than I do right now. Harry, Alex and I will cope.”

There was another silence at the end of the line, and then a muffled noise that he realised with a jolt was Catherine sobbing. “Oh, you’re crying. Um, CAMILLE!” Perhaps if he was a better son-in-law he would have attempted to comfort her himself, or, given how rubbish he was at all things emotional, perhaps he _was_ being a good son-in-law handing her over immediately to a concerned Camille.

 

* * *

 

 

Half an hour later, Camille joined him back in the kitchen where he was finishing off the meal she had begun to prepare. She had picked up Alex at some point, and Richard assumed Harry was still happily reading the book he had gotten out of the library earlier. “Well, you win,” she said, sitting at the table and settling the toddler into her lap. Alex immediately grabbed at the cutlery, but Camille expertly wrested it from her grasp.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked as he started to dish up. Alex grabbed a fistful of peas and stuffed them directly into her mouth. She might think cutlery was pretty, but she had no interest in using it correctly unless it was a spoon for ice cream.

“I’m going with my Mother. I didn’t realise how much she needed somebody to go with her. Seems your instincts were better than mine on this occasion.”

“Well perhaps it is a blue moon tonight,” he joked. Camille didn’t smile though, instead she stroked Alex’s curls as the girl continued to messily munch on her peas.

“You’ll miss the kids,” Richard realised as he watched her. Camille hadn’t been reticent about leaving the children with him, it was that she didn’t want to leave the children full stop.

“Of course I will. I’ll miss you as well. A whole week Richard. Alex could learn 4 new words in a week!”

“God, with Alex, probably ten!” He pointed out.  

“PEEEEAAAASSS!” Alex chose to cry at that moment. She had actually learnt that word ages ago, but it still caused Camille to tear up.

“Yes, darling,” she said, moving the plate so Alex could grab another fistful.

He knew he should call Harry, because the food would get cold, but the sight of his mother upset would probably set the boy off and then Alex would start to cry and it would be one, big, tear stained mess. He sat down opposite her and reached across the table to take her hand. “I’ll miss you, and the children will miss you, but it is the right thing to do. It’s just a week, I promise to take photos and videos if they do anything cute.”

“You think _everything_ they do is cute,” Camille teased him, and he knew she was coming round to the idea.

“So you’ll be guaranteed to come back to lots of photos then!” He looked at her closely, offering a small smile, and eventually she smiled back. “Right, is it safe to bring in Harry?” She nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

Alex was too young to understand and they didn’t really try to explain to her that Camille was going away for a week. Harry had been utterly devastated, terrified that Camille might not actually come back. Eventually Richard sat him on his knee and told him quite firmly that if he thought his mother wouldn’t come back, he wouldn’t let her leave in the first place. They also promised he would be able to talk to her every day on the phone, and that finally seemed to convince him it would all turn out okay.

It took forever to get them all into the car for the trip to the airport. Alex insisted that her stuffed elephant Snoof be strapped into the middle seat next to her. Richard wanted her to just hold the damn toy, but knew it would be quicker to do as she insisted than try to argue with her. Just like it was with Camille…

They all came into the airport atrium with her to say goodbye. Alex accepted the kiss from her mother and then waved, probably thinking her Mother would be back in a little while and was thus not seemingly bothered by her departure.  This didn’t seem to comfort Camille at all, instead she was rather upset by Alex’s indifference. Luckily Harry made up for it by clinging to her desperately and repeating in a hundred different ways how much he would miss Camille. Richard had to concentrate very hard on keeping hold of Alex – not only because she was doing her very best to wriggle out of his arms but also because if he didn’t he feared he might start crying as well.

Camille tried to embrace him, but a wriggling toddler in his arms and a six year old attached to her leg rather prevented her from managing anything but a kiss on the cheek. He swallowed and tried to think of something reassuring to tell her. Before he could, she suddenly confessed, “Juliet might drop by, and also Emma. And Eleanor Patterson as well. Not that I don’t think you can cope but you might need the help one day and they wouldn’t mind, not really…” She trailed off.

“I’ll be fine,” he managed to say, even sounded quite normal when he did so. “I’m sure they’ll report in we are all doing marvellously.”

“I haven’t asked them to call me Richard, I do trust you. I’m going to miss you so much! I love you.”

“I love you, and I’ll miss you too.” With a last kiss and cuddle for each of the children she turned and walked resolutely towards security, but paused halfway to turn and give another wave. Richard waited until she was out of sight entirely and then grabbed Harry by the hand and prepared for the difficult task of strapping his kids back into the car.

Alex went into her seat with surprisingly little fuss. Harry argued he should now be allowed in the front since Mummy was gone, causing Richard to begin to recite current traffic laws regarding children’s seating regulations. Harry had learned long ago that as soon as Richard began a sentence with “ _insert name of act here, such and such a year_ ” he was not going to win, so clambered into the back.

“Snoof!” Alex cried, just as he thought they were ready to go. Damn, she must want him to be strapped in again. He turned around, hoping he could reach from the front without having to get out of the car, especially since it had just started to chuck it down, when he realised that the toy wasn’t there.

“Where is Snoof?” Harry shrugged, whilst Alex looked like she was working her way up to a scream. Richard tried to think, but it had been Camille who had gotten Baby 2 out of the car and it was highly likely Alex would have wanted Snoof to come with her.

“SNOOOOOF!” She began to wail.

Beside her Harry also started to sniff, “I want Mummy back!”

This was not a good start…


	2. A Period of Mourning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised I haven’t been keeping track of the kids ages. I have worked out that Harry is 6 in this story, and Alex is just over a year, but with advanced language skills as previously established in “The Story”.

So, in the pouring rain, Richard unloaded his children and dragged them back into the airport. The most logical explanation was that Snoof had been dropped somewhere in the foyer. A florescent pink elephant should not be difficult to spot. There was no sign of it when he glanced about, so he headed over to the security desk in the hopes that somebody had picked it up and handed it in.

“No, I’m sorry Sir,” the guard told him. “We haven’t had anything handed in today.”

Alex was still whimpering and Harry had just gone silent, though anyone who looked at him would be able to tell the boy was miserable. “Would _all_ lost property be handed in here?” Richard asked desperately, wondering if there was some other desk where Snoof might be waiting for them.

“No, Sir, this is a small airport. It would all come here.”

That was rather what Richard feared. He couldn’t believe he had fallen at the first hurdle. If the toy wasn’t anywhere in the lobby, and nobody handed it in, there was only one explanation. “I’ll need to check the CCTV to see who stole it,” he told the guard seriously.

“Sir?” She was frowning at Richard, clearly not understanding his request.

Richard shifted Alex at little, she was getting quite heavy to be carried for so long but he couldn’t put her down when she was _this_ upset. “Look, clearly somebody has stolen Snoof…”

“SNOOOOF!” Alex wailed again, perhaps mentioning the name had not been a good idea. Richard had to walk away for a couple of minutes whilst he calmed the toddler down. Harry sat on a bench and informed him sternly that he would be waiting there until Camille’s return. Since the bench was only fifty metres from the desk, Richard decided to leave him there for the moment rather than argue about it.

“Right,” he began again. “If the object of our search is not anywhere in the foyer and has not been handed in, clearly somebody stole him. We can find out who using the CCTV!”

“You think somebody stole a fluorescent pink elephant? Who would do that?” The guard’s incredulity was not what Richard needed right now.

“Well, I don’t know, perhaps somebody thought it was a rare collectable!” He received a single raised eyebrow at this suggestion. “Fine, maybe it wasn’t stolen. Maybe another child picked him up!” Yes, that seemed like a slightly more logical explanation.

“In which case I am afraid the – uh- object of your search could be headed to the other side of the world. I am afraid I can’t justify releasing the CCTV footage to you over a misplaced toy. I mean, are you sure your daughter even brought it into the airport?”

“Of course I’m sure!” His voice had risen now, which only made Alex cry harder. “Look, she is really upset, can’t you check for me?”

He was sure the woman was moved more by the girl’s tears than his own plea. With a small sigh she said, “Not immediately Sir, but we do review it at the end of every day and I will ask the guard doing so to keep a look out for the item in question.”

“Thank you,” he told her sincerely.

Now, he just had to convince Harry to get back into the car.

 

* * *

 

 

Richard managed to get Harry back in the car by promising he could stay up and watch a DVD. He wasn’t proud of himself for using bribery, but he was holding Alex and too old to pick Harry up as well, he needed him to come willingly. Alex had been reduced to just silent tears streaming down her face now, which was somehow more heart-breaking.

By the time they got in it was tea time. Richard had had grand plans of cooking some nutritious meal from scratch, but was rather hampered by the fact his daughter was clinging to his leg and crying intermittently. If he tried to put her in the high chair, she just started screaming, and he began to fear the neighbours would be reporting him for abuse or something. So he picked her up and headed to the freezer – hoping against hope there would be a frozen pizza or something equally easy to cook within it. He smiled in relief when he found it was stuffed full of Tupperware – he suspected Catherine to be the guilty party. If things _had_ been going to plan, the discovery probably would have annoyed him, but now he selected some sort of stew, bunged it into the microwave and thanked his lucky stars Catherine had been so thoughtful.

At the table, Harry began to wolf down the dinner whilst Richard attempting to get him to eat it at normal speed. And also get most of it into his mouth as opposed to his lap. Alex normally just ate food with her fingers, but needed a heck of a lot of help. However, Richard’s main problem was that Alex wouldn’t touch her food.

“Come on, Baby 2, don’t you want some…um, some sort of French Caribbean stew?” He had tasted it, it wasn’t spicy or anything, and normally Alex was quite a fan of Catherine’s cooking.

“NO!” She said with surprising firmness. “SNOOF!”

“He’s not here right now,” Richard said, still hopeful they would find the toy eventually. “Starving yourself is hardly going to bring him back!”

“NO!” Alex said again. To be fair, his argument probably was a bit beyond the logic of a 13 month old.  

“Please, Alex, just have a spoonful for Daddy?”

“NO!” Alex only knew 8 words (10, if you counted Snoof and Poofs), which Richard had been assured was incredibly advanced for a 13 month old child. Unfortunately, the word ‘yes’ was not yet in her vocabulary and as a consequence she sometimes say ‘no’ even as she happily grabbed for whatever she was being offered.  On this occasion, Alex’s emphatic refusal was enough for Richard to realise she _really_ meant it.

“I don’t think she is hungry, Daddy,” Harry offered. “Can I have some ice cream?” Richard turned to his son and realised in the 2 minutes he had been trying to convince Alexandra to eat Harry had managed to scoff his entire dinner. Richard wondered if he should get out the indigestion medicine now.

“Maybe you should let your food settle a bit,” he attempted to suggest.

“But I’m still hungry!” The boy complained.

“That may well be because you ate so fast your stomach hasn’t realised it is full yet. Besides, you know the rule, no desert until everyone has finished their meal!” A rule Camille created and that Richard wasn’t willing to break in her absence, he feared her too much.  

Harry looked resigned and then began to enthusiastically encourage Richard to eat. Richard thought this might get Alex to eat as well so did as instructed, every now and then trying Alex with a spoonful of food, but she refused it point blank, still asking for Snoof. Having finished his own dinner he got Harry some ice cream and, desperate, offered some to Alex but she wasn’t interested in it either. He eventually concluded that she would eat when she was hungry. Knowing his luck, about 3 am.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry wanted to watch Postman Pat, which was ok because Richard had only seen that one 14 times instead of the fifty odd times he had been forced to watch every other DVD in Harry’s rather limited collection. He sat Alex on his lap and prayed she would either fall asleep or ask for food. Harry sat with the fur ball in his lap, as he felt that Mrs Poofs would appreciate Jess the cat. Mrs Poofs appreciated being petted and food, however she seemed to have endless patience with the children and though she tried to slink off on several occasions she reluctantly allowed herself to be retrieved each time. In the three weeks since her arrival, she had settled in rather well. Richard suspected Harry or Camille might be sneaking her scraps under the table though, she was looking rather fat.

Alex didn’t fall asleep, but Harry did about 2 minutes after his normal bedtime. So much for being allowed to stay up late. He hustled the sleepy boy into bed. Now it was time to convince Alex to sleep.

“Time for bed!” He said brightly.

“No, Snoof.”

“Alex, he isn’t here right now. Maybe he will be here tomorrow.” She started to cry again.

“No bed!”

“You have to go to bed, you need to sleep,” Richard practically pleaded. First refusing to eat, now refusing to sleep. He took her into her bedroom, hoping she would settle down when surrounded by her other many hundreds of stuffed toys.

“No.” She said as soon as they walked into the nursery.

“Alex, I need to sleep and I can’t sleep until you sleep.”

“No.”

“LOOK HERE!” He cried enthusiastically, grabbing the nearest toy in order to divert her attention. “It’s OWL! I think wants a cuddle in bed with Alex.”

“No.”

“OK, how about Piggles?”

“No.” The reply was a little more mumbled, and he realised that she was actually quite sleepy despite her protests. Richard was not willing to offer her the entire menagerie of toys, so decided to try just putting her down in the cot with Big Ted and seeing if that worked. She didn’t try to stand up, so that was hopeful.

“Night, night Alex!” He kissed her on the head and backed quietly from the room. Leaving the door open a little, he paused to see if she would start to cry, but it all remained blissfully silent. With a sigh of relief, he resolved to call the airport first thing if they didn’t call him first.

 

* * *

 

 

When the crying started, Richard felt he had only been asleep for ten minutes. He had waited up to hear that Camille had landed safely. He opened his eyes and shot a look at the bedside clock, which confirmed he had actually only been asleep 7 minutes. He stumbled from bed into the nursery, where Alex had pulled herself to her feet and was wailing. Bending over, he picked her and rested her on his hip.

“Oh, Baby 2, what’s the matter? Do you want some food?” He was sure the screaming must be hunger induced from her earlier refusal to eat. He therefore made his way into the kitchen and grabbed for a banana, something he could mash up one handed.

Alex accepted a couple of spoonful’s before she started crying and asking for Snoof again. Richard abandoned the banana and took her into the front room. He walked up and down, jiggling and generally attempting to sooth her. Eventually he gave up and took her into the bedroom with him, where she promptly clung to Camille’s pillow and went to sleep. He tried not to take any offense that her absent mother’s pillow was more of a comfort than him.

 

* * *

 

 

Richard was glad Harry had miraculously slept through Alex’s tears the night before, but it did mean his son was far more alert than him at breakfast. Richard had slept badly, as he woke frequently terrified Alex would fall out of bed or he would roll over and crush her. He didn’t want to put her back in her own cot though, in case she woke up crying again. Alex was as subdued as him, and not interested in breakfast.

Whilst trying to make Harry’s sandwiches, aware that they really needed to set off on the walk to the school within the next 5 minutes, the phone began to ring. Richard, despite claiming not to be superstitious, crossed his fingers and answered.

“I’m sorry, Inspector Poole,” the familiar voice of the security guard was telling him. “The CCTV footage seems to show your daughter didn’t actually have the toy you spoke of when she entered the lobby. I did go and have a look around the car park for you but no luck I’m afraid.”

Richard sighed, “No, it’s okay, thank you so much for looking. If it does turn up please let me know.” She promised to do just that.

Richard was certain that Alex was too young to have understood the conversation, but from her high chair she still gave him a look full of hope and asked quietly, “Snoof?”

“I’m sorry, darling,” he said. “It seems Snoof has gone away.” He expected her to start screaming, but she just looked down at the table of her high chair and remained silent.

 

* * *

 

 

At the school gates, the spies Camille had bribed descended on him. And not one of them failed to notice how miserable Alex was. He patiently explained the loss of the toy, but one mother was a little incredulous at his explanation.

“Why it is so strange to see her so subdued, she is normally such a happy baby! If I didn’t know better, I would say she was mourning.”

That comment alarmed him, and as soon as he was free from the gates he pulled out his mobile. “Hello, yes, I need an emergency appointment with the doctor. No, not for me, for my daughter, Alexandra Poole.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Now what appears to be the problem with young Alexandra?” Dr Johnston asked at lunch time, the earliest appointment Richard had been able to secure. The receptionist had been a little suspicious at him wanting an emergency appointment for a child that had no temperature or sign of infection, and he was reluctant to tell her the entire story. However he did mention Alex had been failing to eat or sleep and that seemed to do the trick – probably along with the general panic in his tone.

“I think she has childhood depression,” Richard said firmly, sitting down and putting Alex on his lap.

Dr Johnston blinked once and then, after a long pause, said, “Well, childhood depression is _very_ unusual in children under the age of 5. There could be other explanations, exactly what sort of symptoms does Alex have?”

“Well you see she is mourning. The depression is related to that,” Richard supplied.

Dr Johnston gave Richard a look full of sympathy, “Oh, I’m sorry Inspector, have you lost a close family member?”

“No, no it’s not that,” he admittedly reluctantly, staring to feel that he _may_ have overreacted. “She, um, she lost her favourite toy…”

“And you think she’s mourning that loss?”

Richard just nodded in reply, then in a rush hurried to explain, “But she isn’t eating much and slept really badly last night and she’s so…subdued.”

Dr Johnston seemed to take his time considering how to reply, “Have you, um, considered perhaps buying Alex a replacement toy?”

“Isn’t that like buying an identical hamster if it dies?”

“I don’t think the situations are exactly comparable,” he explained patiently. “Besides you needn’t pretend it is the, uh, lost toy. She is young but would probably realise. You could make up some provenance of the toy that relates it to the lost one though.”

Richard was a bit dubious, “You think that would be enough to comfort her?”

“I think she’s 13 months old. They are generally quite easily distracted at that age. However if it doesn’t work, and she continues to refuse food, I am happy to see you both again.”

Well, it was worth a try. If it worked, he wouldn’t even have to tell Camille that he had briefly thought he’d permanently damaged their daughter.

 

* * *

 

 

Pushing Alex along to the toy shop, a small miracle happened and she fell asleep. This saved Richard a lot of hassle because he now didn’t have to come up with a plan to distract her whilst he made the actual purchase. He had no idea if she had the cognitive ability to figure out his buying the toy in the shop would mean the story he was planning to tell her wasn’t true. He had no idea if they had the cognitive ability to understand the bloody story he was planning to tell her. But he wanted all bases covered just in case.

The shop did not have any pink elephants, only normal looking grey ones. This actually secretly pleased him, because Richard felt that soft toys should be largely biologically accurate. He had been overruled by Camille though when Harry was still a baby and had been given a purple sparkly lion. Richard had thought it an abomination but Camille had liked it and so, apparently, had Harry – so the toy had stayed.

 

* * *

 

 

Back at the house, once Alex had woken, Richard placed her in her high chair and made sure he had her attention. Camille would probably be about ten times better at this.

“Right now, Baby 2, I would like you to meet, um Sniff,” it wasn’t the most original name choice, but at least with an elephant it made vaguely more sense than Snoof and he wanted something familiar sounding. Richard held up the new cuddly elephant in front of her, and she stared at it obediently. “Sniff here is the big brother of Snoof, who has left to go join the circus. But Snoof didn’t want you to be on your own, so Sniff here has come to live with us.”

Alex continued to just stare at the toy, when he was really hoping she would reach for it. He still had one trick up his sleeve. “Say hello to Alex, Sniff!” He squeezed the elephant, which let out a rather realistic trumpeting noise. The baby immediately brightened and reached out for the toy, snatching it from him and squeezing it herself to achieve the same result. Then she held the toy close to her and giggled. Richard thought it might just be one of his favourite’s sounds ever.  

After two hours of Alex was squeezing the elephant every 2 minutes, he also had a new lest favourite sound…

 


	3. Bronies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I would give Richard a wee break today, before he gets hit by his next big challenge. This may be a little unbelievable…

Richard frowned at his parenting book collection. Harry was safely deposited at school for the day, albeit with a slight hitch when Richard found his son had no clean underwear left. Though Richard had done a load of laundry the night before (he always did a load on a Tuesday, he would never be the sort of husband who let their wife to all the housework) but he had forgotten to take it out and hang it up to dry. As a consequence the pants were still damp, and Harry refused to wear them – and also wouldn’t accept going to school wearing his swimming trunks as an alternative. In a fit of desperation, Richard had actually put his underwear in the microwave for 10 seconds. It worked quite well, in fact Harry was so delighted with the feeling of wearing warm undies he requested they get the same treatment every day. Richard spent the entire walk to school explaining why that would not be happening, and trying to convince Harry not to tell his _entire_ class.

He was frowning now because he wanted to find a way to spend some quality Father-daughter time with Alexandra, and the books simply offered _too_ many choices. Should they do arts and crafts of some kind? Or perhaps he should read to her? Take her to the park? Alex was a big fan of dancing with Camille, but Richard didn’t think he’d be any good at that.

In the end, Alex picked for them, toddling over to him holding a paintbrush she had retrieved from toy box. Richard spent an exceptionally long time covering the floor in newspaper, double checking the paints were non-toxic (of course they were, hadn’t he checked when he bought them?) and then attempted to make a fruit bowl arrangement for them to paint. Whilst doing this, he realised how ridiculous it was – Alex was never going to understand the concept of trying to paint an accurate image. In fact her reaction to the fruit was to pick up an orange, roll it in paint and then roll it along the paper. Which Richard felt was really rather creative.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Alex went down for a nap Richard was feeling really quite exhausted. With Alex being so subdued the day before, he had somehow forgotten how much energy she had normally. After painting, Alex had wanted to play with Sniff and about 6 other toys. He didn’t know exactly what they were playing, but it involved her tossing the toys as hard as possible across the room and giggling like crazy when he went to retrieve them. She could achieve impressive distances. She then took to running repeatedly around the sofa whilst Richard chased her, only to have her somehow wriggle out of his grasp whenever he did manage to catch her. They had lunch as a picnic in the garden, though Richard didn’t get much eating done – he was constantly trying to prevent Alex consuming her apparent preferred lunch of grass and various flowers.

It had been his intention to try to sort out another wash whilst Alex was resting, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit down for _five_ minutes. The next thing he knew he was woken by his daughter’s agitated cries for her mother. He tried to tell himself that she didn’t look _that_ disappointed when he was the one who came in to get her. A glance at his watch revealed she (well, both of them) had only been asleep 15 minutes – it was likely she would drop off again later. He sat her on the sofa with him for story time. He ended up having to sort of just make up the story, as Alex enjoyed turning the pages of the book irrespective of if it was time to do so or not. After they were finished Richard decided that they surely must have done enough quality activities for it to be ok for him to just turn on the television. He still shot a guilty look over his shoulder before reaching for the remote, as if Camille might randomly appear to berate him for being a bad father.

Richard didn’t have to pick Harry up from school today. Fidel had called to tell him that he and Juliet were taking Rosie and Timothy to the hairdressers after school, and had asked if he wanted them to take Harry at the same time. The unruly thing that grew on top of Harry’s head was _always_ in need of taming. Camille had been a little disappointed that Richard’s genes had not had a stronger influence on Harry’s hair, it was at least as curly as Camille’s – possibly even more so. He gladly took Fidel up on the offer. They agreed he would come back with Harry and Timothy who could play whilst Juliet and Rosie had their hair done – a process that for reasons he did not fully understood took far longer than the boys’ cuts.

Alex had crawled up into his lap and sat enthralled, watching the children’s television channel he had located. She babbled along happily, pointing and occasionally using one of her few words, often incorrectly.

“ _Chat_!” Alex cried loudly – pointing at a Cheetah on the screen. Well, that was pretty close.

“Cheetah, it’s a big cat!” Richard corrected her. When they tried to teach her a new word, they normally said the French at the same time. Well, Camille did, Richard hadn’t the faintest clue what French for Cheetah was. He considered guessing “ _le cheetah_ ” but decided on this occasion to just let it go. Alex hadn’t mastered anything with more than one syllable yet, she was unlikely to start with cheetah.

The presenter came on to announce there would now be a _My Little Pony_ : _Friendship is Magic_ marathon. The opening credits indicated it would be a show that would appeal to Alex – she generally enjoyed anything with bright colours and jolly music. He didn’t really want to watch, but Alex seemed so comfortable and he didn’t have the energy to get up anyway. Perhaps it wouldn’t be _too_ bad.

 

* * *

 

 

The door slamming made him jump, clearly his son was back and had let himself in. Normally Richard would hear the car pulling up but he’d been oddly absorbed in the cartoon.

“HELLO DAD I’M GOING TO SHOW TIMOTHY MY STICK INSECTS!” Harry shouted as he zoomed by the front room, Fidel’s son trailing behind.

“Sir?” Richard heard Fidel call enquiringly.

“In here!” He called back. He would have gotten up to greet Fidel but Alex had fallen asleep in his lap. He turned back to the screen, where a pony was now singing some kind of lament.

“Sir?” Richard realised that Fidel must have asked him something, because when he looked up Fidel was staring at him.

“Sorry!” Richard said. “What did you say?”

“It wasn’t anything important,” Fidel’s eyes had also strayed to the screen. “Rosie used to _love_ this show and insist I watch it with her, but now she claims she has grown out of it. Is this the episode where Pinkie Pie considers chucking it in as a party planner? I don’t think I ever saw the ending.”

“Sit down,” Richard said, inviting Fidel to join him in finding out the ending. Not that he cared what happened, not really, but it would be nice to know…

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello!” Juliet called cheerfully from the hallway. “Nobody answered so we let ourselves in!”

She walked in to the front room to find her husband and his boss watching what appeared to be _My Little Pony_ with rapt attention. Admittedly, Alexandra was there too, but she appeared to be asleep in Richard’s lap. She roused a little at Juliet’s greeting, but Richard hushed her and told her to go back to sleep.

Juliet was a little miffed her husband had not risen to greet her. She told Rosie to go find Harry and her brother whilst she came fully into the room and settled down on to an armchair. Yup, there was no doubt about it, the two men were engrossed in watching the animation. She wondered if she should be concerned, was this normal behaviour? She knew one place she could check.

Juliet slid her tablet out of her handbag and logged on to Mumsnet. A quick search of the forum revealed she was not alone. In fact, many women had provided photographic evidence of their predicament. Juliet decided she might as well add her own, the boys were too captivated to notice. She also sent the picture to somebody else who she thought might appreciate it.

Looking at the men, Juliet muttered, “At least I’m not the only one…”

Fidel must have heard her mumble. “What was that, darling?” He asked, without actually looking away from the screen.

“Oh I’m just glad other women’s husbands are also oddly fascinated by _My Little Pony_ ,” She said casually. “Apparently the show has quite a few male fans, they are known as Bronies.”

Imparting that little fact got the attention of both men, who gave her a startled look. Richard quickly stumbled over himself to explain, “Oh, um, no, we are only, you know, watching for Alex.” Fidel nodded enthusiastically next to his boss. Juliet didn’t believe it for a second.

“Oh, yes, of course you are watching for your _sleeping_ daughter.” Juliet was finding this quite fun.

Richard glanced down at Alex and did a jolly good impression of being surprised, “ _Oh_ I had no idea she was sleeping!”

“No, of course you didn’t, which is why when I came in you hushed her and told her to go back to sleep,” Juliet pointed out with a certain amount of glee.

“Sir,” Fidel said, with a tone of resignation. “I don’t think we’ll convince her.”

Richard nodded, accepting the advice. He then turned back to Juliet and asked hopefully, “This honestly is the first time I’ve seen the show…I don’t suppose I could convince you not to tell Camille?” Juliet simply smiled. He sighed, “You’ve already done so?”

“I emailed her a picture.”

Another sigh followed.

 


	4. Accusations of Animal Cruelty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lovely dream of spending my weekend in a café, writing fanfics as a sip on a latte. Sadly though I can still spend it in a café, any typing will have to be work related, and as a consequence this may be the only update from me this weekend.

Mrs Poofs enjoyed her food, and she liked to show her gratitude for being provided with it as well. Unfortunately, she began doing so before you had even fed her. At least a million times in the few weeks since they had gotten her, Richard had attempted to explain to the fur ball that if she _held still_ rather than enthusiastically rubbing herself around his legs, he would be able to feed her a damn lot faster.

“Wait a minute cat!” Richard shouted – she was overly excited because he had gotten milk out of the fridge. Milk that was not for her, as cats are lactose intolerant but seem unable to accept the fact (and he suspected Camille sometimes gave her cream and other treats when he wasn’t home), but for Harry’s cereal. Richard strongly felt that in the pecking order, the children should probably come before the cat. The cat did not feel the same way.

“She’s hungry, Daddy!” Harry cried in defence of his pet.

“Well so are you!” Richard shot back. In order to reply to his son, he had taken his eyes off Mrs Poofs, and promptly ended up standing on her front paw. She yowled, loudly, in protest which caused Richard to jump back in surprise and spill at least half a pint of milk. “Damn it!” He shouted. Mrs Poofs had run out of the room. Well, it was a sort of run, she was getting so fat these days her speed couldn’t be called impressive. Skipping breakfast wouldn’t do _her_ any harm.

Harry was looking at him in horror, “You hurt Mrs Poofs!” He admonished Richard sternly. In fact, the look on his face reminded Richard strongly of Camille, and for a second he did feel really rather guilty. Then he pulled himself together.

“It was an accident, Harry, I didn’t do it on purpose,” he told the boy firmly as he added milk to his son’s cereal.

“It’s not nice to hurt animals!” Harry continued, accusation in his tone.

“No, it’s not, but really it wasn’t my fault!” Richard was a little annoyed with his son. “Mrs Poofs was being very silly in the first place.” He received an actual glare, and once again saw quite a lot of his wife in Harry. Not wanting an argument that could prevent them from getting to school on time, Richard decided to just drop the topic for the moment and sit down and have a proper chat about it that evening.

Harry sulked all the way to school though, and Richard felt his son was merely _tolerating_ him when he crouched down to give him a hug and kiss goodbye.

“Bye Harry, have a nice day!” He said cheerily. Harry mumbled something in response.

“Bye!” Alex said from the push chair. This got Harry’s attention, Richard’s as well, Alex had never said ‘bye’ before. Harry was delighted by his sister’s farewell and waved enthusiastically to her before skipping off to class. Richard was pretty pleased that Alex had learnt another word. He knew that Camille would be disappointed that she missed it, but he would have felt a little like a failure if his daughter hadn’t learnt anything new whilst he was looking after her on his own.

 

* * *

 

 

Once again Richard didn’t have to pick up Harry from school. He was really quite suspicious when Fidel offered to bring Harry home again, thinking perhaps Camille had put him up to it. Ok, so once Richard _had_ forgotten to pick up his son – but that was only because he was busy arresting somebody for murder! The school had been really quite understanding, and hadn’t he bought Juliet flowers as a thank you for waiting with Harry until he arrived?

But it wasn’t Camille at work. Fidel reminded him that it was the day he and Dwayne went into the primary school to talk to the children about how the police are always there to help them etc. Richard knew both officers secretly loved it, though when he had been a young PC he had actually paid another Constable to go in his place – the very thought of standing up in front of a room full of five and six year olds had terrified him far more than rounding up drunks in Leicester Square. Now he had Harry and Alex he’d probably be able to cope, but at the time it had seemed an insurmountable challenge. He had accepted the offer and told Fidel and Dwayne they could also help him get through some of the meals stuffed in the freezer as well.

 

* * *

 

 

The knock surprised him somewhat, he had expected Harry to just burst through the unlocked front door as he normally did. He opened it to find his son standing there looking rather serious, and perhaps a tad guilty, with Fidel and Dwayne standing just behind. Dwayne looked amused whereas Fidel appeared more than a little uncomfortable. Richard wondered what the hell was going on. Alex, oblivious to the oddness of the situation, just waved happily at everyone.

“What’s going on?” Richard asked.

Fidel and Dwayne exchanged a meaningful look, “Well as you know Sir, today we went to Harry’s class to give our yearly talk…” He trailed off, clearly too nervous to just spit out what had happened. Dwayne rolled his eyes and took up the story.

“Harry, here, reported to us that you may have hurt, um, Mrs Poofs is it?” Dwayne asked, and Richard nodded in confirmation. “Unfortunately Harry did this in front of one of the teaching assistants who appears to be the world’s biggest supporter of the Cat Protection League and she demanded we investigate the incident.”

“She actually followed us here,” Fidel said, glancing over his shoulder. “I think she might be hiding just around the corner to make sure we are taking it seriously.”

Richard gave one of the biggest sighs he thought he had ever achieved, and moved aside to let everyone in. He shut the door and stared down at Harry. “You reported me for animal cruelty?” He asked. Harry gave him a somewhat defiant look, somewhat ruined by the tears that were welling up in his eyes. Clearly he was one conflicted boy. “You know,” Richard began sincerely. “You could commit _murder_ and I wouldn’t hand you in! And yet I _accidentally_ step on the damn cat’s paw and you turn me in at the first chance!”

Richard, deep down, knew it was likely one day this would be funny. Perhaps if he was lucky, he’d be around to tell this story on Harry’s wedding day or something. But at this moment he was actually a little hurt. After a few tense moments, Harry eventually murmured, “Sorry Daddy.” Richard was about to accept the apology, when Harry continued, “But you didn’t even check Mrs Poofs was ok!”

Well, of course the damn cat had been fine, but Richard knew that actually he probably should have checked on her. If only to demonstrate kindness to animals to the children – one of the key reasons Camille had insisted they get a pet in the first place.

With a small sigh, he conceded, “You’re right, I should have checked on her.” It suddenly occurred to Richard that actually, he hadn’t seen Mrs Poofs all day. He was suddenly rather anxious she might have run away, Camille and the children would never forgive him if that was the case. “Shall we look for her now and see if she is ok?” He suggested, praying they would locate her quickly.

Harry ran off shouting “MRS POOFS! HERE KITTY!” Repeatedly and loudly. In his arms Alex began to wriggle and shout out “Poofs!” as well. The cat did not emerge, and a visual inspection of every room and the garden (with Fidel and Dwayne gamely helping) turned up nothing.

“Well, you know, cats like enclosed spaces don’t they? Does she have any hidey-holes you know of?” Fidel asked.

Richard thought about this for a moment, and when he did he realised that recently Mrs Poofs had been checking out every nook and cranny in the place – he’d found her in draws idly left open by Harry, curled up in a space she could only just fit into behind the washing machine and half hidden under the towels in the bathroom cupboard. He assigned the draws to Fidel, washing machine to Dwayne and went to check out the bathroom cupboard for himself, stopping to deposit Alex in her playpen on the way.

Which is where he found her – but Richard was only relieved for a few seconds. There was something wrong with the car. Firstly, she appeared to be panting quite a lot like a dog – something he had never seen in a cat before. Her stomach was also contracting weirdly, and Richard didn’t have a clue what was wrong – but he was _sure_ it was his fault.

“She’s not behind the washing machine, Chief,” Dwayne said from the bathroom door. “Oh you found her.”

“You found her!” Fidel echoed, joining Dwayne at the door. At that moment, Mrs Poofs decided to start yowling in pain. Both Officers looked towards the cupboard in surprise.

“Oh God,” said Richard. “Do you have the number for an emergency vet? I must have hurt her more than I realised! The poor thing is in so much pain.”

Fidel came and crouched down beside him, leaning in and examining Mrs Poofs, “Well, Sir, she is in pain but I can safely say it isn’t your fault. She is in labour.”

Richard blinked a few times whilst he tried to ascertain if he had heard Fidel correctly. “Labour?” He eventually asked. “Labour, as in…?”

“Labour as in having kittens,” Fidel confirmed. “Juliet is a real softie, there are always strays around the house and a fair few have come inside to have their litters. I’ve seen this on many an occasion.”

“Do we need to call some sort of feline midwife?” Richard asked, which caused Dwayne to actually snort with laughter.

Fidel smiled gently, “No Sir, they are normally quite capable of getting on with it themselves.”

Hearing Harry heading in this direction, Dwayne moved off to intercept him. “Hey Harry, your Dad and Fidel are just checking on that kitty of yours. Why don’t you show me and Alex your stick insects?”

“But _I_ want to see Mrs Poofs!” Harry protested.

“She’s sleeping Harry, and you agreed with Mummy not to disturb her when she was sleeping!” Richard said quickly, though witnessing a cat giving birth would probably be quite educational part of him was also concerned it would somehow scar Harry.

“I can hear her meowing!” Oh yes, she was rather loud.

“In her sleep, Harry, she is meowing in her sleep!” Richard really didn’t think his son would fall for that, but luckily he was distracted by Dwayne half pleading to see the stick insects.

“Really, Sir, we should probably just leave her to get on with it,” Fidel suggested, and logically Richard knew he was probably right but at the same time he felt he should sit with Mrs Poofs in case something _did_ go wrong, and he told Fidel as much. “Ok, Sir, well I think she won’t mind as long as you’re quiet. Do you want me to sort out some dinner for the kids?”

“Christ, I can’t have you do that! You are supposed to be my guests.”

Fidel gave him a sympathetic look, “It’s alright Sir, for Catherine’s cooking it isn’t any hardship! I’m afraid cat labour can take quite some time, so I’ll bring you something in.” Before Richard could protest further, he was up and out of the room and heading towards the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

 

Richard didn’t touch his dinner. Forget scaring Harry, Richard thought he was a little traumatised by the experience. Over the course of 2 hours Mrs Poofs had delivered 3 slimy kittens, each in some sort of little membranous sack she had half licked-half pulled off the kittens. She had then happily eaten the placenta, which had made Richard feel a little queasy. Once he was sure no more little bundles of joy were on the way, Richard decided to go and explain the situation to Harry. Fidel had already left, needing to get back to his own family, but Dwayne had stayed behind with the children. Richard knew he would owe him drinks from now until eternity.

As a Cymric, a type of longhaired Manx cat, Mrs Poofs lacked a tail. Her kittens, however, seemed to be a bit of a mixed bunch. One was short haired but lacked a tail like her mother, one seemed to have a shorter than normal tail and the final looked like he or she would be a longhair, but had a normal looking tail. Richard knew he would have to investigate Manx cat genetics at some point. He hoped there were other people on the island like Camille, who would be willing to take in an unusual looking cat, because there was no way they could handle four cats.

“Right, Harry, I have some news about Mrs Poofs. She had become a Mummy cat,” Richard announced.

Harry squealed in delight, waking Alex who had fallen asleep on Dwayne’s lap – no surprise since it was past her bedtime. “KITTENS!” Harry screamed as he ran towards the bathroom. Richard immediately regretted getting him so excited before bed – he would probably take a huge amount of convincing to go to sleep now.

“Harry!” Richard cried, hurrying after his excited son. “Mrs Poofs needs you to be quiet. You know, like when Alex was first born.”

Harry skidded to a halt outside the bathroom door and then, with exaggerated care, practically tiptoed into the bathroom. He got down on his hands and knees and peered keenly at Mrs Poofs and her new kittens. He smiled happily up at his Father, it seemed his earlier accusations of animal cruelty were all forgotten now. Dwayne came in with Alex gathered up in his arms. Spotting the cat, she sleepily murmured, “Poofs.”

“They are _awesome_ ,” he whispered loudly. “When will they be big enough to play with?”   

“I’m not sure but I think a few days yet. We better leave Mrs Poofs to have a rest now, and it is your bedtime as well.” Reluctantly, Harry left the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

 

Richard collapsed on top of the covers. Harry had inundated him with questions about kitten development that he simply did not know the answer too. He ended up going to bed an hour later than usual and Richard was seriously worried about getting him up in the morning. Groaning, he realised that he had meant to put a load of laundry in, and he couldn’t do so now in case the noise of the machine woke his children. Oh well, they couldn’t possibly be close to running out of clean clothes yet.

The phone rang and Richard snatched the handset from the bedside table, “Hello?”

“It’s me!” The familiar voice of his wife declared. “I thought we were going to Skype? I was waiting online for _ages_ , and then I sent you some texts, is everything ok?” She sounded a little panicked, and Richard felt hugely guilty. In the drama of Mrs Poofs giving birth he had forgotten his arrangement to speak to Camille on Skype so she could see the children. He’d been rather looking forward to seeing her as well.

“I’m so sorry Camille!” He said, genuinely distressed he had upset her. “It’s been all go here, we’ve been having kittens.”

There was a pause, which Richard didn’t think was necessarily caused by the long distance nature of the call, “What have you been having kittens over?”

Well, that wasn’t the first question Richard has expected, “Um, the bathroom towels. We’ll need to get some new ones.”

“Why do we need new towels?” She asked, sounding quite annoyed.

“Well, our current ones are sort of, um, covered in cat placenta…” He explained, cringing at the memory.

There was a gasp on the end of the line, “Oh my God! You mean _actual_ kittens, I thought you were using that cute English idiom! Mrs Poofs had kittens?”

“Yes, 3 of them, they are _sort of_ cute,” Richard told her. “I was sitting with her to make sure nothing went wrong. Dwayne and Fidel helped me out with the kids.”

“God, Richard, she must have been that way when we got her. I honestly didn’t know she was pregnant, I just thought she was getting fat!”

“Oh I know,” he said ruefully. “If you did you wouldn’t have been able to keep it quiet for this long. Not to mention the fact you would have insisted on feeding Mrs Poofs speciality maternity cat feed, if such a thing exists.”

She laughed, “You know me so well. I suppose the kids are in bed?”

“Sorry, yes, but I suppose I could wake them…”

“No, no,” she interrupted, though she sounded like she wished he would really. “You and I both know you might not get either of them to settle afterwards and I should go to bed anyway.”

“Christ, I completely forgot the time difference. Have you been waiting up all this time?”

“Truth be told I am not sleeping all that well. It’s just so _quiet_ here, and I miss you all you know? I can’t sleep without you snorting and muttering in your sleep next to me!”

“I miss you too, and so do the kids. Is your mother okay?”

“Yes, though I am glad I came out here with her. Several times she has broken down as we sort through the stuff here at the house. I was instructed to ask you if you and the kids are eating properly?” Richard could hear the smile in Camille’s voice as the posed the last question.

“Yes, well, as you know I already discovered the freezer full of food, which we are making our way through,” he informed her. Then, worried about what this might imply, added hurriedly, “Though you know I would have been perfectly capable of cooking myself! But I thought I should use the meals so as to not hurt your Mother’s feelings.”

“Of course, Darling,” Camille only called him ‘darling’ when she was humouring him. Something she knew Richard knew as well. He chose to ignore it. “Richard, I really should go. Can we try Skype at the same time tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course!” Richard vowed to arrange his entire day around it. “Now get some sleep, I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye!” As soon as she said her farewell, Richard realised he should have told Camille about Alex’s new word. Oh well, it would make a nice surprise during the Skype conversation tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt Harry sometimes came off a little perfect, but he isn’t anymore! Any mistakes in cat biology are my own!


	5. The Tooth of the Matter

Alex had a new game, one Richard was not particularly a fan of. When he had lifted her out of her crib in the morning, she had babbled away happily and then, inexplicably, lifted a hand and slapped him around the face, before bursting into giggles. Of course, since she was such a small child, there wasn’t much force behind the slap and it didn’t hurt him – but Richard still found it disturbing that she found slapping around the face hilarious.

If that had been the end of the matter, he supposed he could have lived with it, but she did it twice whilst he was trying to make them all breakfast. “Alex!” He said indignantly. “Don’t slap!” Alex was probably encouraged by the fact that Harry was also amused by watching her hit Richard.

He was less amused when, at the school gates as he bent over to give his little sister a sloppy kiss goodbye, she gave him the same face slapping treatment Richard had been treated too.

“Alex don’t slap Harry!” Richard said, physically grabbing Alex’s hand and pushing it down hoping she’d get the hint.

“That’s assault!” Harry cried, pointing an accusing finger at his sister.

“Harry, it isn’t assault. She doesn’t understand the concept – she’s under the age of criminal responsibility anyway.”

“And so am I!” He said whilst making moves towards Alex as if he intended to get some revenge. Richard intervened by grabbing him around the waist.

“You aren’t too young to spend the evening on the naughty step,” he told his son firmly. Harry glared at him, and stormed into school – the second time in as many days. Richard hoped Harry didn’t report him for any crimes today.

 

* * *

 

 

The random slapping continued throughout the day, with Richard desperately trying to convince Alex she shouldn’t be doing it. He physically lost count of the time he said ‘don’t slap’ or ‘no slapping, Alex!’ At least a quick check on the internet showed he was not the only parent out there to face the issue.

Alex spilt her lunch over herself, as she somehow managed to do every day, and Richard was rather alarmed to find they had entirely run out of clothes for her. There was not a single clean baby outfit in the house. He was forced to strip her down to just her nappy and force as many clothes into the washing machine as possible, selecting the least dirty item from the basket to dress her in for picking up Harry from school later. Richard had never realised how much dirty clothing she produced – or perhaps he was worse at keeping Alex clean than Camille was.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry was absolutely beaming when he came running towards him at the end of the school day, something clutched tightly in his hands.

“Daddy guess what?” Harry cried happily.

Richard knew _exactly_ what, one look at his son was enough, but he knew that wouldn’t be any fun for Harry so instead he asked, “Oh, I don’t know, what?”

Trembling with excitement, Harry unfurled his fist to reveal the incisor laying there – he had lost his first tooth. Camille was going to be gutted to not be here.

“Wow!” Richard said, enthusiasm somewhat forced – he had been at boarding school when he started to lose teeth at seven, it was not considered a big deal there. But he imagined Camille would want to do the whole tooth fairy routine, and though he wasn’t quite sure what the point of it was there was no way his son was missing out on that or any aspect of childhood. “You keep that safe, Mummy is going to want to see when we chat to her on the computer later!”

“And then under my pillow for _la petite souris!_ ”

“Is that French for Tooth Fairy?” Richard guessed. He wasn’t familiar with the French for fairy, though he knew tooth was _la dent_. Perhaps they didn’t use the exact phrase ‘tooth fairy’.

“Tooth Fairy!” Harry looked confused. “What is the tooth fairy?”

“Well, she is who comes and takes your tooth from under the pillow and leaves you money,” Richard answered, tentatively. “She needs them to build her house.”

“But… _la petite souris_ is a mouse Daddy, and he takes your teeth not some fairy. That is what Miss Meunier told me!” Harry was giving Richard a suspicious look, as if he thought he father was playing some sort of trick on him discussing fairies.

“Um, well, you see _la petite..._ mouse and the Tooth Fairy are actually the same. You see the Tooth Fairy can chose to take the form

 of a mouse to visit boys and girls if she desires.” Considering he had to think of something on the spot, Richard didn’t think that was a bad explanation. Harry, however, didn’t look entirely mollified.

“How come she is a girl when she is a fairy and a boy when a mouse?” He asked.

Richard briefly considered some explanation along the lines of the tooth fairy belonging to a sub-culture that values androgyny, but rapidly concluded that sort of thing might be a bit beyond Harry’s understanding. Instead he offered, a little lamely, “Well its magic Harry!”

“You think Miss Meunier would have mentioned that as well,” He said thoughtfully, but did seem satisfied by the offered clarification. Harry next moved on to a discussion of how much his tooth might be worth, and wondering aloud if teeth changed value over time. “You know,” he told Richard. “If lots of kids lose teeth one day, do they each get less money each because there is an oversupply of teeth?”

Richard was at a loss to how his son could have a concept of supply and demand and equilibrium prices, but still be willing to accept the existence of a magic gender swapping fairy mouse…

 

* * *

 

 

In his excitement about the tooth, Harry had practically forgotten about the kittens until he went to the loo and heard them mewling. Mrs Poofs had not deigned to move the kittens from their current location, though she had emerged several times to eat excessive amounts of food before returning to her young. Harry sat with her and quietly explained how it was important that she, or any of her ‘pooflings’, didn’t attack the little mouse.

Richard had the connection set up and running well ahead of the agreed start time, still feeling guilty about forgetting about yesterday. He had to be rather firm with Harry, who had wanted to arrange the kittens in a pile in front of the laptop, but once he explained they were too little to be played with (just like when Alex had been born) he had acquiesced. Alex was very interested in trying to gnaw the mouse, every time he moved it she would reach and grab for it – sometimes balancing precariously to do so, until he just gave in disconnected it and gave it to her. He could just use the one on the laptop.

It was a bit of a relief when Camille did ‘dial in’ as he wasn’t sure how much longer he could have kept the children seated. Alex was clambering all over him, and he had hold of her legs as she attempted to climb over the sofa, when Camille spoke her greeting. Alex’s reaction was startling, she immediately turned and lunged towards the sound of her mother’s voice with an excited squeal. No doubt she would have flattened the laptop if Richard wasn’t holding on to her.

“Well, I guess you don’t have to worry about her forgetting you,” Richard quipped, whilst holding a wriggling Alex as still as he could manage. She seemed to have realised Camille was not actually here now, but appeared to think she might be able to physically shake her mother out of the computer.

“You thought there was a chance she would?” Camille asked, looking stricken.

“No, of course not, just a joke, how are you?”

“I’m good, yes, _Maman_ is feeling a little unwell though so she is having a lie down,” She shared a significant look with Richard, he knew there was probably something else going on – he could only conclude Catherine was too upset to come on, but Camille didn’t want to make Harry anxious for his grandmother.

“LOOK MUMMY!” Harry interrupted, shoving his tooth directly at the screen. To be fair Richard thought Harry had shown remarkable restraint in not doing so immediately. “I LOST MY FIRST TOOTH!” Richard thought that, at his current volume, it may be possible for Camille to hear Harry without the need for Skype.

As he feared, a flash of disappointment went across Camille’s face – she was obviously distressed not to be here for this childhood milestone. She quickly masked it though for the benefit of her son, “Oh my goodness how wonderful my sweet boy! Are you going to put it under your pillow for _la petite souris_?”

“So _you_ think it is a little mouse that collects the teeth?” Harry surprised his mother by asking.

“Well of course, what else would it be, a rat perhaps? A sheep? Or an octopus?” She teased.

“What about a fairy?”

“ _Oh_ ,” Camille said, clearly realising what Harry was talking about. “You mean the Tooth Fairy? Well you see there are two magical creatures who collect teeth, the tooth fairy who works in England and the little mouse in France, and actually both operate on Saint Marie because historically it was part of both countries. So either could end up visiting you!” Camille clearly thought she was being clever, she had no idea that Richard had come up with a different suggestion earlier in the day. Harry, inevitable, picked up on the discrepancy immediately.

He crossed his little arms and looked suspiciously between his father and the computer screen, where his mother was starting to look a little nervous. “Now this is just silly! Miss Meunier only told me about a mouse, and then Daddy says it was a fairy and then told me it was a fairy that could change into a mouse! But Mummy you have said the fairy and mouse are separate!” He paused, and sudden realisation dawned on his face. “They are _made up_ aren’t they?”

Richard and Camille exchanged a glance. He felt there was no point in trying to pretend anymore, so with a sigh reached for his wallet. “Yes, they are both made up, here is your two quid for the tooth. Go put it safely in your piggy bank.” Harry snatched the coin from Richard’s hands, glaring at his father.

“Oh Richard, did you have to ruin the magic like that?” She was looking annoyed. “We could have thought of something!”

Richard shook his head, “Come on, Camille, you know how bright he is. Once he was suspicious we never had a chance. Besides he directly asked up if they were made up, I wouldn’t have felt good lying.” Camille eventually nodded, agreeing with him, and he knew he wasn’t in that much trouble with her.

Harry was returning now, walking slowly towards the couch and looking pensive. He remained silent for a few minutes after he sat back down, whilst Alex spoke nonsense to her mother. Then suddenly, he looked up and asked, very seriously, “Does this mean Father Christmas and the Easter Bunny aren’t real either?”

OK, now Richard _was_ in trouble.


	6. Something that isn’t Fiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually cannot locate any evidence that what happens in this chapter does happen in real life, but oh well!

In addition to the £2 he received for his tooth, Harry earned himself an extra £1.50. For some time they had had a rule that the boy would get 50p every time he used a word of three syllables or more correctly in a sentence. After informing his parents that ‘Santa is clearly just a form of coercion in order to control children’s behaviour’ he got his first 50p (for coercion, he’d learnt the word behaviour long ago), before moving on to complain about how he should have ‘realised they were mythological creatures and not just magical’ and finally declaring that he planned to ‘hold a conference of his friends to reveal the truth to them’.

It was an exhausting effort, but they eventually convinced him not to do the latter. The discussion had gotten rather philosophical in parts, and eventually they convinced him that rather than an outright lie, it was _really_ just a game of make believe – except played by lots and lots of parents with their kids, and he shouldn’t ruin it for the children who hadn’t figured that out yet. They told him it could be a test of his acting skills which could come in useful for the future, in case he wanted to be an undercover police officer like his Mum. By the time they finished it was getting late in France, and actually Alex was starting to drop off as well, which saved Richard from being kept ‘on the line’ for a telling off from Camille. He knew it wouldn’t be long after she was back before she took the opportunity to berate him though.

 

* * *

 

 

Five past five in the morning. That was the time Harry hurled himself onto the bed and started jumping up and down encouraging Richard to wake up. Richard could have had at least another ninety minutes in bed, and couldn’t understand why Harry was so keen to be up before the sun had even bloody risen.

“Got to get going on breakfast!” He was half yelling, as he continued bouncing on the bed. Alerted by the noise, he could hear Alex in the next room over whimpering and most likely working her way up to a scream if he didn’t intervene soon.

Richard kept his eyes tightly shut, perhaps this was just a bad dream? “Harry, it is too early to have breakfast, why are you awake?”

“Because if we are going to have pancakes for breakfast, you will need extra time to get them ready so we aren’t late. I’m being helpful!” He sounded like he genuinely thought that was true.

“But you don’t get to pick what we have for breakfast Harry, you know that,” Richard reminded him.

“Yes because of them, um, what was the law again?”

“The Legal Guardian Oversight of Childhood Nutrition Act, 2014,” he rattled off. Of course there was no such act, but pretending there was had gotten Richard and Camille there way with meals for a long time now. He dared to peak at his son, who was looking more than a little suspicious. A couple of times already he had found Harry browsing the law books, after the tooth fairy debacle yesterday he wondered if the boy wasn’t going to start questioning everything he was told.

“Yes, well, I know – but I am still allowed to make suggestions. And I am suggesting we have pancakes for breakfast. It has been exactly 15 days since we last did.” He then paused, and with a dramatic sigh threw himself down upon the bed. “Also I suffered a terrible disappointment yesterday, and pancakes would cheer me up awfully.”

Oh yes, his son knew how to guilt trip with the best of them.

 

* * *

 

 

Camille was the expert pancake maker in the house, there was no doubt about it. Before they were married, he’d never successfully produced one – they somehow ended up always scrambled up in the pan. He’d watched Camille produce them with ease, taking mental notes, until one day he was finally able to make one that was not a disaster. At that point he’d had no clue they would have a son who would love pancakes with an intensity like nobody else on the planet. Though perhaps he was somehow responsible for that – the first time he had made Camille pancakes was when she was heavily pregnant with Harry and craving them.

Harry sat at the kitchen table, drinking his juice and telling Alex how she shouldn’t bother listening to Mummy and Daddy if they tried to tell her about the ‘tooth fairy’ or ‘Easter Bunny’. Richard wasn’t sure if this was Harry trying to continue to lay the guilt on, or the boy was being genuine in his desire for Alex not to ‘fall for the deception’. He looked at Richard expectantly, and he handed over a 50p, though part of him was sure Harry had used deception previously. Or was it deceived? If it was, should they count as two separate words? With Harry’s vocabulary expanding at an alarming rate now he was at school – it had been impressive before he started – that was probably a rule they should establish soon.

Richard was relieved when he flipped the first pancake over without incident. Harry had paused in his discussions with Alex to watch, and looked disappointed. “You know,” he said seriously. “Mummy is a much better tosser than you!”

“What?” Richard asked sharply, certain he must have misheard.

“Mummy is a really good tosser. You aren’t much of a tosser at all really.”

After a few seconds, Richard realised that his son was not insulting his mother but actually referring to her skills at pancake tossing – he had just chosen a rather unfortunate way to express his admiration. Actually, it was pretty funny, and warranted going in the note book of silly things Harry had said since he learnt to talk largely in sentences.

He smiled at his son, “Well I apologise I’m not ‘much of a tosser’. Perhaps once I have made enough pancakes to satisfy you I will have a go at flipping it up high like Mummy does, that way it won’t matter so much if it goes on the floor!”

“Ok!” Harry agreed. “You know, I tell everyone at school how Mummy is a really good tosser.”

This gave Richard reason to pause, “Um, do you use that _exact_ phrase?”

Harry thought about it, “I’m not sure, maybe…why?”

“Well, it’s just…” Richard had to think carefully. If Harry realised tosser was a rude word, he would stop using it – that wasn’t a problem. The issue was Harry always wanted to know _exactly_ what the rude word meant so he could understand why he shouldn’t use it. “Technically the correct phrase is pancake flipping.”

He was in luck, Harry simply nodded in acknowledgement. Richard reckoned if his son had been repeatedly using the word tosser at school the news would have reached him by now, so that was an incident avoided. He couldn’t wait to tell Camille her son’s honest opinion of her. He placed three pancakes down in front of Harry, who looked at him like it was some sort of meagre offering of gruel.

“Only three pancakes?” He asked, despondent.

The guilt trip was not going to get him more pancakes, not after the incident the previous Shrove Tuesday where Richard and Camille had decided to just let him have his fill for once. He had promptly gorged himself and been sick all over the bathroom.  

“You know you’ll only feel unwell if you have more than that. And you’ll be _so full_ you won’t be able to walk to school! You have art today, don’t want to miss that do you?”

Harry looked like he would be willing to miss art in order to consume more pancakes, and Richard thought he might have to pull out the fictional law again, but then his son just grabbed for the maple syrup and began applying liberally. “Alright that’s enough,” Richard said firmly, moving the bottle out of reach. “You’re not supposed to drown the things in it!”

“Are you going to flip it high now?” Harry asked. Well, that is what Richard thought he asked – it was difficult to be sure when the boy spoke with a mouth stuffed full of pancakes and syrup. One looked was enough for Harry to get the hint. “Sorry Daddy.”

“Let me just finish this one for Alex.”

“But giving pancakes to Alex is a waste!” Harry cried indignantly. “She gets more food on the floor than in her mouth. You should let me eat it.”

One of the many disadvantages of baby led weaning, though Richard supposed since Alex had stopped taking milk a couple of months ago she was fully weaned, so it was just a disadvantage of feeding a baby in general. “Well, it is her pancake to do as she wishes with! I don’t let her throw yours on the floor so you can’t eat hers.” His daughter gave him a sweet smile when he placed the pancake down on the tray of high chair. He paused a moment to see if she was interested in eating it, pleased when she picked it up, much less pleased when she proceeded to use it to slap him on the arm with it. “Don’t slap, Alex,” he said wearily.

She just giggled and shoved a handful of pancake in her mouth. “Peas!” She said proudly. It was the only food word she knew, and so she tended to use it each and every meal irrespective of if that vegetable was on offer. Though, since they were her favourite, peas often did feature at dinner.

“Pancakes!” Harry corrected her. Alex looked at him blankly. “Pan – cakes,” he tried more slowly.

“Peas?” She tried again. “Poofs?”

“I’m sure she’ll learn the word soon, Harry,” Richard told the boy, before he put any more effort into vocab lessons for his sister. “Come on, nearly time to flip the pancake.”

Harry leaned forward expectantly, and Richard took a few calming breaths. It wouldn’t be a disaster if it went on the floor, Harry and Alex would probably think it hilarious, possibly more entertaining than if he did flip it up high and catch it successfully. Concentrating, he flipped the pancake up higher than he was really comfortable with, and then took a couple of steps rapidly forward managing to just catch it. He sort of expected Harry to give a cheer, he did when Camille was successful, but instead his son said with a single raised eyebrow, “Yeah, that is better, but still not as good as Mummy.”

“Oh.” It had seemed really high to Richard, but now he thought about it the reality was it may have been mere centimetres higher than usual. Perhaps he should give it another try, and just really go for it. “Okay, let me put this aside and then I will do a _really_ impressive one, ok?”

And that is exactly what he did. Decided to just accept the fact there was a 99% chance it was going to land on the floor, Richard flicked the pancake into the air with considerable force and then readied himself to catch it. Except the pancake did not hit the floor, but neither did it land back in the pan. Rather it had attached itself to the ceiling.

“IT’S LIKE DADDY PIG ON PEPPA PIG!” Harry shouted excitedly. “THAT IS AMAZING!”

Richard stared up at it and there was only one thing he could think of to say.

“I honestly thought that didn’t happen in real life.”

 

 


	7. Skirting the Issue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Willowsticks for some of the ideas in this chapter.

Saturday. The sweet, wonderful blessing that was Saturday. No need to run about like a mad man trying to get Harry out of the house in time for school. Ok, so he would have two of them to look after all day instead of just one, but that might even be easier – they could entertain each other. Well, to a certain extent. Harry sometimes got bored with his sister, who wasn’t as co-ordinated as he was and got easily distracted. Many a toy of Alexandra’s had only been played with one time.

He was forced out of bed earlier than he would have liked, Mrs Poofs yowling insistently until he got up to feed her. Usually he ignored her, but with her kitten’s needing her attention Richard felt too guilty to delay feeding the nursing cat. She hadn’t yet moved the kittens from the bathroom cupboard, and he realised he still needed to go buy new towels. A towel buying expedition was not the most appealing way to spend his Saturday, he had imagined just lazing about the house all day with perhaps an excursion to the playground for the kids, but he would feel bad if he didn’t complete the task before Camille’s return.

Richard was surprised to find Harry was not dressed when he blundered into the kitchen, Alex tucked under one arm. Normally Harry dressed himself, as he enjoyed picking out his own outfit. Richard was immediately concerned he might not be feeling well, it was the only time his son would stay in pyjamas.

“Why aren’t you dressed, Harry?” Richard asked as he ungracefully plopped Alex down into her high chair.

“Um,” he said, shifting in an uncomfortable manner than strongly reminded Richard of himself. He knew Harry was about to confess something. “All non-pj clothes are dirty.”

Richard frowned, he was certain there was only about one item of Harry’s in the laundry basket. “Dirty? How can they be dirty?”

“They got dirt on them.” Yes, he supposed he had walked into that one.

“But they aren’t in the wash basket,” Richard pointed out.

Another shift, “I was worried you wouldn’t wash them properly. My clothes aren’t as nice when you wash them.” Richard sighed aggressively, this came from his refusal to use fabric softener. He thought it was a gimmick and a waste of money. Harry liked the way it made his clothes smell though and Camille had ignored Richard’s moaning for years and continued to use the stuff. Harry had clearly hoped to delay the need to wash any of his clothes until his Mother returned.

“Well where are they?”

“I just put them back in the draws,” Harry admitted.

Alex seemed quite happy to sit in her chair and bang her big plastic spoon, so Richard indicated his son should follow him into Harry’s bedroom. Richard was convinced they would be able to find _something_ clean – at least clean enough for Harry to wear whilst Richard put on a load of the boy’s clothes. He pulled open the first draw, and was found himself overwhelmed by the smell. What the hell had Harry gotten on these clothes? Or had something crawled in the draw and died? Careful examination proved the latter was not a correct theory. It seemed the smell came from a rotting piece of pepperoni that must have fallen into the pocket of Harry’s dungarees when they had had pizza earlier in the week. Richard was not impressed. Everything in the draw stank, and the stuff in the next draw down wasn’t much better.

He was simply too tired to tell the boy off though. He hurriedly stuffed as much as he could into the washing machine and told Harry that today he had no choice, he would have to wear his swimming trunks and a pyjama top into town. “You are growing out of some of these trousers anyway,” Richard said wearily. “We might as well get you some new clothes at the same time as I am buying towels to replace the ones Mrs Poofs gave birth on.”

“I don’t want trousers,” Harry said firmly as they made their way back into the kitchen for breakfast.

“We’ll get you shorts as well,” Richard said, pouring cereal for them all. He was going to have to have Harry’s dreadful chocolate stuff because he had somehow run out of his own cereal. In fact when he had popped to the shop the day before all he had remembered to buy was stuff for the kids, he also failed to pick up the razors or tea he had wanted for himself. Luckily he had managed to find an old packet of decaff tea in the back of the cupboard that Camille had made him go through a phase of drinking. It wasn’t the same, and God knew he _needed_ caffeine, but it would do for now.

“I don’t want shorts either.”

“Well you have to have trousers and shorts. What else could you possibly want?”

“I want a skirt.”

Richard’s initial emotion was panic. His second emotion was then guilt at feeling the panic. He had always thought he would be a modern man, and that he would be totally ok if Harry or Alex were gay. It seemed some of his Father’s more old fashioned beliefs (these days, he gruffly accepted same sex relationships as long as it ‘wasn’t in his face’) might have rubbed off in him. Besides, Harry wanting to wear a skirt was no conclusive indication of the boy’s sexuality. Maybe he just _wanted_ to wear a skirt, and Richard had no right to deny him. Though he did worry about the comments other people might make.

“A skirt like the sort Mummy wears?” Richard asked, on the off chance (and he wasn’t hoping for it to be the case, nope, not at all) that Harry had just said the wrong word.

“Oh no!” Harry said, shaking his head firmly. “Mummy’s skirts are far too short! I want nice long flowing ones like _Mémère_ wears!”

Right, well, that was Richard told. He wasn’t entirely sure where they would find such skirts, and just hoped they were currently fashionable amongst six year olds and would be available in the girl’s section of the clothes store.

 

* * *

 

 

Richard, to his shame, put off the skirt buying by dallying over the towel choices. He noted with interest that Harry turned his nose up at the pink ones, and particularly keen on a set that featured dinosaurs. Then, when they eventually did make it into the girl’s clothes section, Richard initially picked up a dress which Harry instantly rejected. So he wasn’t universally interested in all girls’ things, just apparently skirts.

“I’m not sure which one suits me best,” Harry said, holding up two skirts identical except for the colour. He offered them to his sister, who lunged for the purple one. “Ok, I sort of do like purple more than yellow. Though I wish they had it in green, green is the best colour.”

It being a Saturday, they were hardly alone in the clothes store, it was filled with (largely) mothers with small children in tow, many looking as harassed as Richard felt. He couldn’t fail to notice the way many were watching the scene playing out with his son with interest, but none seemed to be openly disapproving, which was a relief. The week he had had, he didn’t really need the conflict.

“Let’s get Alex this skirt!” Harry said, having located a much smaller version of his skirt of choice. “We can wear them tomorrow to meet Mummy and we’ll be matching!” Richard managed to hold in the sigh, if he was letting Harry buy the skirt _of course_ the boy was going to want to wear it in public. He realised the major thing that bothered him was the fact that it drew attention, and Richard had already spent a week being terrified people would judge him on his parental (or lack thereof) skills.

Before he could reply, Richard became aware of a woman around his own age marching purposely towards him. It looked very much like he wouldn’t be avoiding criticism after all. Richard braced himself.

“Excuse me, but are you planning to allow your son to buy and wear that skirt in public?” She asked, in the clipped tones only achieved by an English private school education like the one Richard received. He briefly wondered how such a woman had ended up on Saint Marie, but then mentally shook himself and answered her question.

“Yes, yes I am.” He told her, with more confidence than he felt.

“Well, I must tell you…” She paused, Richard imagined she was carefully constructing the sentence she would use to express her outrage. “I think that is simply, well, wonderful. I really do.”

Ok, that was unexpected. Even more unexpected was the fact the woman appeared to be tearing up a little, “Oh, if only my Father could have been a little more understanding with my younger brother, and accepted him for who he was. Maybe then he wouldn’t have run away.”

Richard now felt an entirely different kind of awkward, as tears freely ran down the woman’s face. “Did he come back?” Harry asked, with that innocent bluntness children his age possess.

She let out a choked sob, then controlled herself for long enough to answer, “No, I’m afraid I haven’t seen him in thirty years.” At this, Harry apparently became overwhelmed by sympathy, burst into his own tears and flung his arms around the stranger’s legs. Alexandra decided if Harry was crying she should as well, and let out a long and loud wail.

Oh God, this never happened when Camille went shopping.

Richard cleared his throat, doing his best to ignore the open stares of the rest of the customers, and offered the lady a handkerchief, which she accepted graciously. She dabbed somewhat uselessly at her eyes. After another few moments, Richard gently tugged on his son’s arm, and luckily Harry took the hint and attached himself to Richard’s leg instead. Alex continued to sob, albeit quietly, she probably had no idea why she was crying but apparently no inclination to stop.  

“Terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to get so emotional,” she told him, clearly a little embarrassed by her outburst.

“That’s quite alright.” Which it wasn’t, Richard was sincerely wishing he was elsewhere, but what else could he say? Usually in situations like this Camille would magically appear and deal with it, but the ocean that currently separated him from his wife made that scenario unlikely. He would simply have to try to be comforting himself. “I, um, well, there are several charities you could try who might be able to help you locate your brother, you know.” He rummaged in his pocket, managing to find a slightly bent business card with his office and mobile numbers on. “If you would like to explore that option, just give me a call and we can put together the necessary details and send them off together.”

She looked a little overwhelmed, and Richard feared she would start to cry again, but she maintained control of her emotions and accepted the card with a small thank you. “I hope you like your skirt, young man, I am sure you and your sister will look lovely tomorrow all matching!” She gave the boy a warm smile, and then left.

“Daddy, maybe you can get a purple skirt as well, and then we’ll _all_ be matching!” Harry suggested brightly as they walked towards the till.

Richard considered it for a moment, if he was to do so it would surely be a clear sign to his son that it was fine to dress however he wanted. And it would only be necessary to do it once to make that point. But then again…

“No, Harry, I much prefer trousers,” He said.

His son shrugged. “Well, that is your choice Daddy,” Harry said, sounding wiser than his years. Richard felt rather proud.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left!


	8. A Series of Unfortunate Events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to reunite poor Richard with his wife. He has suffered enough, though there are still a few challenges ahead. Quite a long chapter but always as I had planned to end it!

Richard was once again awoken by Mrs Poof’s yowling, but this morning it sounded like she was still in the bathroom, and feeling rather aggressive. As he was still trying to fully wake up, he heard his son cry out in pain, which caused Richard to leap out of bed and stumble towards the bathroom. There he found Harry sitting in one corner, nursing a bleeding hand and glaring at Mrs Poofs who stood guard over her kittens, hissing menacingly.

“Harry, what happened?” Richard asked, crouching down next to the tearful boy. He then noticed something else, “Why have you got the cat carrier in here?”

Harry sniffed dramatically and wailed, “I wanted to take Mrs Poofs and the pooflings to the airport to see Mummy and _Mémère_ , but she _attacked_ me when I tried to pick one up!”

Richard gently examined his son’s hand, which had some scratches that were bleeding but weren’t too deep. He’d need bandaging up though. With a sigh Richard stood, fetched the first aid kit from just across the room, and then explained patiently, “Harry, first of all the kittens are far too young to leave the house, they haven’t even opened their eyes yet and won’t for a while. And secondly, it is 6 hours until we go to the airport!"

“Well you always say it tales hours to get Mrs Poofs into the cat carrier so I thought I would start early!” Harry replied. “Why did she attack me? It was mean!”

“She was just scared you might hurt the kittens, Harry. Becoming a Mummy or a Daddy makes you very protective. I wouldn’t be very nice to somebody I thought was going to hurt you.”

“But she knows I won’t hurt them!” Harry protested.

“No, she doesn’t, because she has never had kittens before. You have to be very gentle and patient with her. Just like when Mummy was pregnant with Baby 2, you remember that don’t you?” Richard didn’t feel like explaining hormones and instincts too deeply, and hoped his example would work.

“Oh, ok, I understand,” Harry said. “Sorry Mrs Poofs,” he called across the bathroom. The cat was just starting to settle down, her hackles were no longer raised and she had stopped thrashing her stump of a tail, but she was still watching them both warily.

Richard looked down at the no bandaged hand and frowned, it wasn’t the neatest job. “Gosh, your Mummy isn’t going to be very impressed, is she?”

He just hoped nothing else would go wrong today.

 

* * *

 

 

“Bye bye!” Alex said, as Richard plucked her from the cot.

“No, Alex, it is Hello in the morning,” he told her cheerfully. She would probably shout ‘bye’ when she saw Camille, at least then he would have evidence she had learnt a new word in his care. In response to his suggestion, his darling daughter gave him another slap across the face. “Don’t slap, Alex,” he said almost mechanically. Richard wasn’t sure why he bothered, she didn’t seem to take it in at all.

From somewhere in the house Harry shouted a reminder that Alex was to wear her new purple skirt. Ah, so that plan was still going ahead. Richard pulled it out from the shopping back and managed to get it on Alex, who was extra wriggly this morning. In the kitchen, he found Harry wearing the odd combination of his purple skirt and a formal shirt he had worn to a wedding a few months before. Perhaps he would start some sort of new fashion.

He was carefully arranging paper towels over his lap. “Don’t want to spill anything on it!” He explained to Richard, who just smiled and didn’t say anything. Having seen his son’s filthy clothing, he wasn’t convinced the cleanly attitude would last too long.  

 

* * *

 

 

With some of the time he had left before leaving to pick up Camille, Richard _tried_ to get the place straightened out. And, he discovered, there was far more straightening out to do that he had previously imagined. Another load of washing was in, but still somehow hadn’t gotten rid of all of Harry’s dirty clothes, so Richard took a lesson from his son and stuffed them in the draw. He would volunteer to do the load tomorrow as well and hopefully get away with his laundry fail. It occurred to him Camille must to a hell of a lot more washes a week than he previously imagined. He had thought doing one load of a week made him a good husband, now he wasn’t so sure.

Richard caught site of himself in a mirror and did a double take. He was not looking his best. Having never managed to get hold of a razor for himself, he was in desperate need of a shave. He also looked old, really old. Many times he had half-heartedly grumbled people would think he was Harry and Alex’s grandfather, but today he _looked_ like he might well be. A few weeks previously he and Camille had joked about how they would spend the first week after Alexandra left home just in bed together, occasionally leaving to seek food. It was pretty much how they had spent their honeymoon. Richard thought if somebody offered to takes the kids off them for a week now he wouldn’t have the energy to manage that, let alone in 17 odd years’ time.

It’s a good thing he loved his family, Richard concluded, because he was certain they would be the death of him.

 

* * *

 

 

Loading the children into the car, Richard belted in Sniff as requested by Alex’s desperate pointing and made a mental note not to let this stuffed elephant out of his sight. He did _not_ want a repeat of the start of the week as a finale that was for sure.

“Are you happy Mummy is coming back?” Harry asked him, as Richard found himself humming along to the soundtrack of Frozen (Harry’s choice of music, of course, and they would no doubt be watching it as well latter).

“Of course I am!”

“Good, because I don’t think you seemed to miss her much,” Harry pointed out, rather unfairly Richard thought.

“Of course I missed your mother,” Richard insisted.

“You better have!” Harry said in an almost threatening manner. It was really a rather bizarre conversation. “We should have made a sign!” The boy cried suddenly, looking devastated. “Like on the TV. That says MUMMY and MEMERE so they can find us! WHAT IF THEY DON’T FIND US? DO I LOOK DIFFERENT?”

“Harry they will find us! You haven’t changed except for the tooth and Mummy saw that on Skype, remember?” Richard reassured him as he tried to park the car, a task that is twenty times harder when a 6 year old is shouting in the back seat and his sister is singing in a made up language.

“Are you sure?” He sniffled.

“Harry, I promise Mummy and your Grandmother will recognise you.”

 

* * *

“Oh my goodness, you’ve grown so much in just a week!” Camille cried as the hurried over to them, gathering Harry up first. “I almost didn’t recognise you!” Richard knew this wasn’t true, it was just a phrase, but it didn’t stop Harry shifting in his Mother’s arms to shoot him a glare. Well, hopefully now Camille was back Richard would be on the receiving end of less of those dirty looks.

Catherine relieved him of an overly excited and loudly squealing Alex and Harry let go of his Mother to also welcome home his Mémère. Now that neither of them had children attached, Richard took the opportunity to pull Camille into a hug. The first thing he noticed was the smell of her – a combination of perfume, shampoo and something that was just _her_ , and until that moment he hadn’t realised he had been missing it. He found himself suddenly reluctant to let go of her, but then his innate Englishness took over to remind him this counted as a public display of affectation and that it had lasted more than 10 seconds and so he took a step back, shooting her a warm smile instead. She kissed him quickly, and then grimaced.

“You need a shave,” she told him rather firmly.

“I know, I kept forgetting to buy razors every time I went to the shops.”

“Honestly, I leave you in charge of your own toiletries for a week and look what happens! Oh well, as long as this isn’t a permanent look,” she said, gesturing to the 3 days’ worth of stubble he was now sporting. “Hi Alex!” Camille said next, turning and taking possession of her daughter. She smiled sweetly and babbled excitedly.

“I completely expected her to greet you with ‘bye bye’, it is what she said first thing this morning,” Richard told her.

“Oh, did you learn a new word, Alex?” Catherine asked.

“Slap!” Alex said.

There was a moment of silence, before both Catherine and Camille turned quizzical, but not quite accusing, looks on him. It was definitely not one of the words Richard had been hoping to teach Baby 2 whilst Camille was away, but of course it was one she had learnt - and the first impression left by that fact probably wasn’t in his favour. “She started slapping people this week,” Richard hurried to explain. “I’ve been repeatedly saying “don’t slap Alex” every time she does, she must have picked up the word that way.”

“Oh Richard, I hardly thought you took to beating her whilst I was away,” Camille said with a patient sort of smile. “Of course I will be seeking an explanation as to why my son’s hand is bandaged…” Camille had seemed like she was going to carry on with that thought, but had spotted something that gave her pause. Harry was currently twirling around for his grandmother, who looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Why is Harry wearing a skirt?”

Richard cleared his throat and said, “Well, he expressed a desire to own a skirt.”

“But _why_ did he want to wear one?”

Richard frowned, “I didn’t ask. I thought it best to let him have one as I didn’t want to force gender stereotypes on him.”

“Right,” Camille said, looking suspicious. “Harry!” Her son came running over, still buzzing with excitement. “Harry, why did you ask for a skirt?”

“Oh, Uncle Dwayne said he would give me a fiver if I asked Daddy for a skirt, a tenner if I got him to buy a skirt and twenty if I could get Daddy to wear a skirt. I did try once for the twenty but Daddy didn’t seem that interested and a tenner _is_ a lot of money!” Harry said all of this without any trace of guilt. Clearly if Richard had asked him he would have admitted it freely as well. Catherine had given up trying to suppress her laughter at his declaration.

“Right, well you make sure you get that money off Uncle Dwayne soon, Harry, because he’s going to get fired and not have much money in the future,” Richard said through gritted teeth.

“You can’t fire Uncle Dwayne!” Harry cried instantly. “That would be unfair dismissal!”

Richard wasn’t sure where Harry had learnt the term unfair dismissal, but then again he wasn’t sure where Harry picked up half the knowledge he possessed. With a sigh he said reassuringly, “I won’t be firing Uncle Dwayne, you can relax.”

Outside of the terminal, Catherine insisted on taking a taxi. “It’ll be far too tight a fit with the two kids and all our luggage!” She told Richard and Camille. “And out of your way to drive me home as well.” She gave the kids another quick hug each and then said to Camille as she was climbing into the cab, “Don’t forget my offer!”

“What offer?” Richard asked, as the family made their way to the car.

“I’ll tell you later!” She replied rather mysteriously.

Richard noted it was a lot easier to load the kids into the car when there were two of you. “Alex has a new elephant?” Camille asked, strapping in Sniff.

“Yes, I’ll explain when she is in bed,” Richard said hurriedly. He feared that Camille mentioning the name Snoof might cause Alex to go back into mourning.

Camille just shrugged, sliding into the passenger seat. She delved into the pocked of her jeans to retrieve her mobile, but it slipped from her hands and under the seat. “Whoops!” She said, having long ago learnt not to curse. She reached down and groped about, frowning. “Oh, what’s this?” She said, clearing having found something unexpected. With a tug, she pulled it free. “Oh, it’s Snoof!”

“SNOOF!” Alex screamed, delighted, straining forward in her seat to grab the toy from Camille and hug it too her tightly. Richard could not believe his eyes. The entire time the blasted toy had been under the passenger seat, it must have been knocked under there when he was trying to strap the kids in a week ago. It had never occurred to him to look there. He needed to think fast now though.

“WOW!” He said dramatically. “I guess Snoof came back from the circus!” Alex wasn’t even paying attention, she was just hugging the elephant close to her and babbling. He wondered if she would now lose interest in Sniff, but the next moment Alex began to play with both elephants.

“CIRCUS?” Camille mouthed at him, clearly confused by his behaviour. He shot her an ‘I said I’d explain later look’ which she just accepted.  The rest of the journey involved Camille answering the 121 questions that Harry asked her about her trip to France which included gems such as ‘did you see a working guillotine?’ and ‘how many different kinds of goat’s cheese did you eat?’.

Finally, as they were pulling in the drive, Harry asked, “Are you going to do the laundry now Mummy?”

“What?” Camille responded.

“Oh, Harry doesn’t like the way I wash his clothes, I think he’d like you to re-do them all,” Richard said, hoping _not_ to give the impression that the household had a massive laundry backlog. Which, of course, it did.

“Well maybe not right now Harry, though it is nice to know you missed at least one thing about me!”

“I missed other things as well!” He said instantly. “You’re pancakes are better!” Camille exchanged an amused look with Richard, he knew that she knew that Harry – that all of them – had pretty much missed everything about having her around, not just the domestic stuff. He picked up one of her cases and dragged it into the house.

“I swear this is heavier than when you left!” He complained. Camille just looked guilty.

“I may have picked up a few things whilst I was in France…”

Normally he would huff and give a little lecture about wasting money, a lecture Camille always sat through, looking chastised. Of course that was all an act, as she would still take the odd spontaneous shopping trip – but they were, to be fair, few and far between. And he had made the odd impulse purchase that had caused her to sigh as well. He was too happy to have her back today to whine at her, so he just rolled his eyes and continued to drag the case to their bedroom.

“You don’t have to help me unpack, I’ll be fine. _My Little Pony_ starts soon,” she said lightly.

“Does it?” He asked brightly, forgetting himself for a moment. When she smiled playfully at him, he knew he had no chance of defending himself. “I think I can do without it,” he said shortly, annoyed with himself. “Besides, surely you need help unpacking?”

From a distance, they could hear a still excitable Harry running towards the bedroom making aeroplane noises. “The biggest help would be to keep the kids out from under my feet! I’ve missed them loads, but I _really_ need a shower.”

“Muuuuuummmmmy….” Harry squealed as he skidded to a halt outside the door.

“Is going for a shower,” Richard told his son firmly, scooping him up. “You and I and Alex are going to let her get settled back in, aren’t we?”

Harry mumbled something that sounded like it might be an agreement.

 

* * *

 

 

Richard had just settled down on the sofa, Alex on his lap and _Frozen_ now on the DVD player for the fiftieth viewing when, for the second time that day, he jumped up to run to the bathroom in response to a cry. He arrived to find Camille staring in surprise at the kitten she was clutching, whilst Mrs Poofs complained loudly.

“I went to get clean towels and I pulled this out instead!” She said. “I completely forgot she had kittens in the towel cupboard.”

“Yes, well, I suggest you give him or her back before Mrs Poofs attacks,” Richard said, preparing to bravely dive between the cat and his wife if it came down to it. Camille luckily responded to his prompt, and gently placed the kitten back with her mother. Mrs Poofs picked it up by the scruff of the neck and brought it further into her cupboard. “There are new towels in the bedroom,” Richard told her.

“Right,” she said, a little dismissively as she was now clearly more interested in the kittens then a shower.

Harry arrived, holding his sister by the hand, “Did you meet the pooflings, Mummy?” Alex echoed her brother with a, “Poofs!” of her own.

“Yes, my darling boy, which one do you think we should keep?”

Richard very nearly let out his own yelp of surprise, he had never even wanted one cat (though, admittedly, he and Mrs Poofs did seem to get on ok) and certainly hadn’t intended for them to keep any of the kittens.

“I think we should keep _all_ of them,” Harry naturally suggested. He prayed that Camille was not on agreement on that point.

“Oh no Harry, four cats is a little too many,” Camille said much to Richard’s relief and Harry’s disappointment.

“Then the one without a tail so Mrs Poofs doesn’t get jealous,” Harry suggested. It made an odd sort of sense actually.

Camille agreed as well, “Now go back to whatever you were doing, Mummy still needs her shower.”

 

* * *

 

 

Richard as resisting the urge to join in with ‘ _Let it Go’_ , when he heard Camille calling his name. “ _RICHARD!”_ She shouted, sounding rather irritated with him. He had no idea why. He told Harry to stay with his sister and keep watching the moving, and went off in search of his wife. Richard located her in Harry’s bedroom, hands on hips and a look of frustration on her face.

“What are you doing?” He asked, trying to sound innocent despite the fact it was obvious the game was up.

“Well, I needed to wash some of my clothes and I thought, since Harry had mentioned it, I’d throw a few of his clothes in as well. Strangely, there was nothing in the hamper, so I came in here because sometimes he kicks dirty clothes under the bed. But there weren’t any there, despite the fact I could _smell them_ as I came in the door. Why oh why is his draw full of dirty clothes?”

He shifted, “Um, well, Harry hid his dirty clothes because he doesn’t like the way I wash them.”

“But surely you noticed the lack of his clothes in the wash? _OR THE SMELL?_ ”

“Well,” he said slowly, deciding now was as good a time to admit his mistakes as any. “Truth be told Camille, I didn’t quite realise how much laundry you must actually do. You know, I sort of thought I did one load a week and you did another…” Camille snorted with laughter at that. “I mean, when do you get it all done?”

“I put it on a timer overnight usually,” she said. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice!”

That made Richard feel even guiltier. “I promise I’ll do more loads! I have a brand new appreciation for everything you do.”

She looked at him for what seemed like a long time, as if she was trying to judge his sincerity, and eventually he must have passed because she gave a small shake of her head, gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then, with a grimace, returned to the less than pleasant task of sorting through Harry’s filthy clothes. Richard helped her gather them together and they walked towards the utility room.

As they negotiated the kitchen Camille, who was just behind him, let out a sudden scream. He turned to find she had dropped all the clothes and was scrambling to get something out of her hair. “What’s the matter?” He cried, dropping his own pile of laundry. “What is it?”

“Something fell on my head, it was horrid and slimy and massive!” Camille wasn’t normally the type to panic, and Richard thought a lot of it might stem from tiredness. Since a tired Camille was also sometimes quite a dangerous, easily angered Camille, he didn’t burst into laughter when he realised what had happened. Even though he really, really wanted to.  

“Oh it’s ok, it’s ok, it is just a pancake!”

“ _A PANCAKE?_ ” She half squealed.

“DID THE PANCAKE FALL DOWN?” Harry shouted from the living room.

“YES,” Richard shouted back.

“A pancake?” Camille repeated, examining the bits of batter she was pulling out of her hair. “What the hell?”

Richard examined the ceiling, “You know I honestly forgot it was up there…”

“What _was_ a pancake doing up there?”

It was a fair question. “I sort of flipped it and it ended up stuck on the ceiling,” he said, with a small shrug.

Camille paused, “I didn’t think that happened in real life.”

“I know, right?”

 

* * *

 

 

Later on both Alex and Harry insisted on Camille putting them to bed, which given her absence was not surprising. Richard sat on the sofa, glad of the break and sure that he meant it when he promised to help Camille more. It wasn’t because he hadn’t been willing to help out before, it was more that he hadn’t quite realised just how much work she did.

Camille came in and joined him on the sofa. “Kids are in bed,” she said, big smile on her face.

“Oh good,” he replied, suppressing a yawn.

Camille frowned, “You aren’t reacting to that news in the way I imagined.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve just said the kids are in bed, and I’ve been away for a whole week…I assumed you’d be dragging me off to bed about now.”

“Right,” Richard said, trying to rouse himself. “I suppose we could if you like.”

Camille didn’t seem pleased with that response, “You _suppose_? What, you didn’t miss me?”

“Oh, of course I missed you. I was just too tired all of the time to miss you like, um, _that_. And I’m sorry, I’m still quite tired now,” he admitted. “Though I could probably manage it if I had to.”

Camille giggled, “How romantic.”

“Well, you know, anything for you.”

“Well, luckily for you, I am equally tired and don’t really feel like it either. Shall we just go to bed, to sleep?” She asked, laying a head on his shoulder.

Richard thought about this for a moment, “I might just need to rest on the sofa for a few more minutes, to get enough energy to make it to the bedroom…”

He could feel Camille smiling, “Ok, we can stay here for a while.”

“What was your Mother’s offer?” Richard asked, suddenly remembering the incident from the airport earlier.

“Oh yes, she is going to come here tomorrow and stay over, and look after the children.” Camille told him.

“But we’ll be here,” Richard said, confused. “Do you mean she’s coming to visit?”

“No, she is doing it so we can have some alone time,” Camille explained.

“But we’ll be here, so we won’t be alone!”

“You really are tired. We won’t have to be here, she can stay with the kids and we can go out for dinner or something and then stay in my old room at her place. Where we will be alone, undisturbed, left in peace, no interruptions…”

“Ok, ok, I get it!” Richard interrupted her. “Though it makes me uncomfortable your mother would know what we were up to…”

“Richard she knows we have sex. It is, after all, where babies come from.”

“She isn’t just volunteering because she wants a third grandchild, is she?” Richard asked, feeling a bit panicked. A second cat was going to be a big challenge, a third child might just kill him.

“No, you can relax. Just wants to ensure we have quality time.”

“Right then,” Richard said, surging up from the sofa and offering a hand. “If we are going to have some quality time, I think I better get some quality sleep now.” Because he wouldn’t be getting much tomorrow!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being kept very busy at work, hence the long delay in an updates recently. I am doing my best though. Blatantly utilised ideas supplied by Willowsticks for this story!


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